


One Shot Collection

by SkylaDoragono



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Crossover, Drabble Collection, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, One Shot Collection
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-02
Updated: 2019-08-25
Packaged: 2019-10-20 20:40:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17629310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkylaDoragono/pseuds/SkylaDoragono
Summary: Collection of small stories that don't fit anywhere else.  See chapter summaries for more information.





	1. Cymoon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The confrontation between Luke and Vader goes a little bit differently.

The boy standing before him was almost laughable, and Darth Vader actually found himself pausing, wishing his vocoder could process a laugh.  He was young, perhaps still a teenager, and held himself with all the grace of a young man pretending to be more experienced than he actually was — a child tossed into war, essentially.  Nothing made his inexperience more clear than the way he held the lightsaber in his hands, the blue of the blade cutting through the red tint of the world around him. He had seen even the most awkward of younglings hold a lightsaber with more finesse than this boy was doing, and Vader found himself shaking his head.

“You hold that weapon like an untrained child.  You have no right to it,” he pointed out, pointing an accusatory finger toward him.  “You, boy, are no Jedi.”

The boy flinched, gritting his teeth and clinging tighter to the lightsaber hilt, showing his inexperience even more.  Yet still, something of the Force was pulling at the back of Vader’s mind, trying to tell him that he should not just crush this boy’s neck and be done with it.

“Who  _ are  _ you?” he demanded, his annoyance at the faint nudge from the Force creeping into his voice.

“You killed my father!” the boy shouted back at him.

“I’ve killed very many fathers, you’ll have to be more specific.”

That was the wrong thing to say, as the boy let out a yell, charging for him.  The attack was laughable, however, and he blocked easily with only one hand on his lightsaber, shoving the boy off with very little effort.  He let out a grunt as he hit the floor, rolling away from him and coming up to his knees, holding the lightsaber up in a continued ridiculous attempt to seem like a threat.  He was far, far from it.

“This is most pathetic.  You are not worth the seconds it would take to finish you,” Vader sneered, almost pitying the poor fool.  “Who sent you here to die like this?”

The boy let out a faint noise, realizing just how little he was being taken seriously, and his grip on his weapon faltered slightly.  He finally seemed to understand just how out of his element he was, fear finally creeping into his expression, but it did nothing but enhance the feeling from the Force, the tug making it feel like Vader should stay his hand.  It was annoying, and he wanted to ignore it, but… something here was  _ familiar… _

He held his hand out, calling on the Force to wrench the boy’s lightsaber to him.  It came free of his poor grip easily, and the boy uselessly reached for it, panic joining the fear in his expression.  He stumbled to his feet, for a moment looking like he would be  _ stupidly  _ reckless and try to lunge for Vader, but he stayed back, instead shuffling toward the wall.  It was probably the smartest thing the child did in the last few minutes, and gave Vader a moment to glance at the other lightsaber in his hand.

...and promptly feel his breath freeze in his artificial lungs.

He knew this lightsaber, could feel the kyber crystal within calling to him like an old friend he had not seen in years.  It fit as well in his hand as it once had a lifetime ago, when he was a weaker man, when he went by a different name, and suddenly he felt a cold feeling settle over him.

Obi-Wan had taken this lightsaber as he lay burning on the lava shores of Mustafar.

The boy said  _ he  _ killed his father.

That was  _ precisely  _ the kind of twisted logic the old fool would use to describe what had happened…

“This is impossible…” he murmured, and he could feel the boy’s confusion as his gaze finally turned back up to him, studying what he saw before him and cursing the fact he could not see colors properly.  “You… you are the son of Skywalker, are you not?”

The boy did not need to answer; the look on his face said it all.  This boy, this child that was barely trained and held his old weapon like it was a toy was an impossibility, was supposed to have died before he was born, but he was  _ there.   _ He was  _ alive. _

“Your father is not dead, boy,” he finally said, and he saw his mouth open, like he was trying to say he was lying to him, but he paused.  He could tell that the Force was teasing him with truth, and his fear slowly ebbed from his expression, staring at Vader with an almost intense curiosity.

The hallway they were in started to shake, and the boy looked up as the ceiling started to crack, dust shaking loose from the lights.  Vader did the only thing he could think to do, and reached out to the Force, grabbing the boy and pulling him into his arms just as the foot of a troop transport crashed through the ceiling.  He pulled on the Force as he threw the two of them out of the way, dimly aware of the boy shouting, clinging to him as he felt him unconsciously reaching to it as well, instinctively trying to help him shield them both as debris fell all around them.

~.oOOo.~

Luke did not know what to make of what happened.  He had been ready to throw down against Vader, though the hulking monstrosity that was the dark lord proved just how stupid it was for him to think he had a chance against him.  The thought that he was going to die had entered his head as soon as Vader had taken away his father’s lightsaber, though that changed when the dark lord’s demeanor had changed, and then… and then he said his father was not dead.

It sounded insane; why should he believe him?  Why would Obi-Wan lie to him? But something told him that Vader was not lying, that his father really was alive.  Before he could ask, though, the hallway was shaking, the ceiling above them breaking, and… next thing he knew Vader was grabbing him,  _ protecting  _ him.  He did not know what to make of that, did not even know how to process that, but the only thing he could think to do was cling to him and hope they would survive this.

He knew he had to have blacked out, if only because he did not remember hitting the ground; his back was pressed against it, with something heavy damn near crushing down on him, and he dared to open an eye, not entirely surprised to see black fill his vision.  Vader shifted above him once he realized he was awake, pulling him tight against him, and Luke instinctively clung to him, dimly horrified at that reaction. What was he even doing? He should be pushing away from him, should at least make an  _ attempt  _ at getting away from him.  Even with his barely trained abilities, he could feel the dark lord’s protection surround him, guarding him almost  _ fiercely,  _ and he did not dare try to pull away from it.

It was a moment before Luke felt himself being lifted, his feet settled on the ground, though Vader did not let go of him.  Instead he felt his gaze on him, checking him over for any kind of damage, and Luke suddenly felt very small, like he was a child under the intense scrutiny of a parent.  He felt the dark lord’s cloak sweep over him after a moment, his arm wrapping around his shoulders and forcing him to cling to him.

“Stay with me, child,” he heard Vader rumble above him, and he fumbled to keep up as he started to walk off.

“W-wait…!” he tried to protest, though he still clung to him, knowing his confusion had to be felt through the Force.  He could hear the sounds of battle all around him, though he could not see anything; Vader’s cloak too thick for him to see through, and no one dared to interrupt the dark lord.  They did not stop until Luke heard their boots on metal, and he felt Vader give him a gentle push, sweeping his cloak back off in the process. It gave him a chance to look around, taking in the sight of the shuttle, before there was a finger in his face.

“You will stay here,” he ordered.  “I’ll not have you wandering off and accidentally getting yourself killed.”

“Why—” Luke began, about to ask why he would care, but his words from before, about his father being alive, rang loudly in his head.  If he was alive, then that meant Vader had not killed him. His actions still were not making any sense, though; his father had been a Jedi, so why would Vader make this much of an effort to make sure the son of a Jedi was okay?

Vader did not seem like he wanted to answer, as he actually took a step back from him, that finger retreating from his face.  Luke stared after him, trying desperately to understand why the Emperor’s right hand man, the most feared person in the galaxy was retreating from him like  _ he  _ was scared, and coming up empty.  He took a breath, deciding to push his luck and take a bold step toward him, a hard look coming to his face.

“If you’re being honest to me about my father being alive, then you can be honest about why you’re bothering to protect me!” he snapped, tilting his head up to glare up at Vader.  It was kind of ridiculous, considering he  _ barely  _ came up to the man’s shoulder, but still he seemed to be taking him seriously, if the tilt of his head was any indication.

“...because you are my son,” he said simply, sweeping out of the shuttle without further explanation, and leaving Luke standing there in stunned silence as the truth rang loudly in his ears.


	2. Legacy: Tarkin's Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A scene removed from Legacy; originally the chapter with the Death Star's destruction was supposed to end after Luke's rescue. This scene was between the trench run and Leia landing back on Yavin IV. It was removed to keep that chapter from being overly long, and for Tanbris' character development later in the story.

Tarkin did not run, and he certainly did not panic.  That sort of behavior was for the lesser officers on the station, who  _ had not  _ seen Vader holding his fire against a target he could have easily hit.  He had left his office then, fully intending to take his ship immediately to Coruscant and report Lord Vader’s betrayal to the Emperor himself.  That was why he was walking briskly toward the hanger, ignoring the reports of catastrophic systems failure. He would leave, yes, but this blow to the Empire would only delay the inevitable.

At least, it would if his ship was still in the docking bay.

Tarkin stood at the entrance, watching as his ship left without him, no doubt one of Vader’s men behind the controls.  At this point, he could not find it in himself to be angry, his lips pressed together in grim acceptance.

“Well played, Skywalker,” he murmured as the docking bay exploded.


	3. Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Persona crossover; Luke faces off against Death itself, and left feeling like he should know what it is. Based off of Persona 5 mechanics, because they fit Star Wars best.

“Oh dear, oh dear… you three need to get out of there, right now!”

This mission was supposed to be an easy one: infiltrate the mind palace of an Imperial bootlicker and get him to confess his crimes, giving the Alliance more ammo against the Empire.  It was supposed to be the same thing they had done time and time before, but this time the Empire was one step ahead, and had placed a trap within the mind of the official that drove them out of their palace and back into the main area of Mementos.  None of them had even realized that was possible before, and they quickly found themselves lost, with Terry struggling to get his Persona to find a way out. Hearing him suddenly say they needed to get out of there was  _ not  _ something any of them needed right now.

“Threepio, what’s wrong?” Leia demanded, casting a wary eye around her.  Luke looked as well, and could not help but notice that Shadows were scarce on this level, like  _ they  _ were afraid of something.  He doubted it was them they were afraid of.

“I’m picking up a disturbance on your level,” their navigator explained.  “I believe Death is there!”

The Empire’s top enforcer, a Shadow bent to their will that embodied Death itself.  Darth Vader was only something Leia had told Luke and Han about, but they had yet to encounter it themselves.  They had always been careful to keep moving within Mementos, never staying too long on one floor so as to run the risk of encountering the Shadow.  Now, it did not look like they had a choice.

“We need to move,” Leia stated.  “Threepio, keep eyes on it! We’re going to find a way off this floor.”

“Yes, Princess.”

No sooner had they taken a step, did Luke hear the sound of something  _ breathing,  _ accompanied with the sound of chains dragging on the ground.  Dread started to crawl up his spine immediately, and he turned squinting down a nearby hall as Han and Leia started to run off.  He could not find it in him to follow them, even as the shadows of the hall started to shift, even as a dark, chained hand loomed out of the darkness.

Nothing Leia had told them could have prepared him for how terrifying Darth Vader was.  It was like a living shadow, completely dark in a way that could not be put into words, and the mask that concealed its true face was like staring at death itself.  Its heavy breathing rang through the air, to the point where he could barely hear Leia and Han shouting his code name and Terry fretting as he always did. Luke knew he should be afraid — terrified even — but more than anything else, he found himself curiously approaching the dark spector, a feeling clawing at the back of his mind.  It took him a moment to realize that it was  _ familiarity;  _ he knew this Shadow, whatever it was, even though he was certain he had never seen it before now.

What was more, the Shadow seemed to feel the same, if the way it stopped its approach was any indication.  Luke found himself reaching up, removing his mask, staring up at the death’s head as it stared back down at him.  A feeling rose in his chest, and it took him a moment to realize he was picking up on the Shadow’s emotions: a deep sense of sadness that he could not describe.  He found himself rooted to the spot, unable to move even as the Shadow reached a hand out for him…

Suddenly, Han’s Persona appeared, Falcon  _ slamming  _ into Darth Vader with enough force to knock the Shadow off its feet.  A roar of rage escaped from the Shadow as Luke felt Leia grab his arm.

“Jedi,  _ let’s go!”  _ she demanded, half dragging him away before the Shadow could get its bearings back.  Still, Luke could not help but look back as Darth Vader began to chase after them, part of him wanting to stop again, desperate to know why it was so familiar...


	4. Family Ties

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU of the Marvel Comics; Luke manages to get a ride to Coruscant while on Nar Shaddaa. Once there, he finds a family member he wasn't exactly expecting.

Imperial Center was  _ dark.  _

It was such a weird thing to feel about a world to vibrant and abundant with life, but despite how loudly the Force hummed with the billions of people that called the massive city world home, all Luke could feel was the Darkness. It was like an infection, rooted deep in the planet’s core and spread thickly over every road and spire. For a moment, he hesitated, half glancing back at the Nar Shaddaa man that had willingly brought him out here, to the heart of the Empire, and wondering if it was too late to change his mind. The impatient look on his face told him without words that it was, so he forced a meek smile and a wave, before finally disembarking. 

The ship was gone before he even made it to the end of the landing pad. 

“What have I gotten myself into…?” he murmured to himself, taking a deep breath to steady his nerves, before starting forward, doing his best to look like he belonged there and knew what he was doing. Truth was, he only had a vague idea; the moment he told the man that agreed to bring him to the city world he was looking for the old Jedi Temple, he laughed in his face. When he realized he was being serious, he laughed harder, before explaining that the Jedi Temple had been gutted, and was being used as the Imperial Palace now. Luke almost gave up and went back to the Alliance at that, but bullheaded determination had him insisting to be taken there anyway. 

Maybe it was foolish to hope, but he had to believe there was  _ something  _ left of the old Order. 

Luke made his way down the footpaths, following the flow of the people around him as he tried to think. There had to be somewhere he could go to get information on the Palace, some way to investigate what happened to all the old Jedi artifacts that had been inside. This sort of thing was more Han’s department, and once again he found himself floundering, cursing himself for being  _ this  _ directionless. 

He paused at a corner of the path, letting out a breath and rubbing at his eyes, trying to tell himself to  _ think,  _ that there had to be something he could do. Just as he did so, he felt something brush against his mind, cold and curious at first, enough to make him shudder, before the warmth of recognition filled him. 

_ You lived…! _

Luke jerked his head up, looking around, though he had a feeling he was not going to find anyone. The voice in his head sounded a lot like the occasional times he would hear Ben’s voice, yet different at the same time. This was  _ close,  _ almost like if he looked, he would be able to see the owner of the voice right next to him. 

Problem was, he was not sure how to respond to them, his curiosity and anxiousness burning in his mind. The owner of the voice seemed to sense it, because he could feel that warmth come to him again. 

_ Your mother… before she passed, did she get to name you, young one? _

His mother?

Luke sucked in a breath; he had not expected this, and he took a furtive glance around, before starting off again. 

“I don't know; I never knew her,” he murmured low, hoping no one else would hear him. It did not seem that way, at least for the moment. “My name is Luke.”

That warmth came again, with a hint of sadness attached to it. 

_ She did; Luke, her and my son’s light.  _

Luke nearly tripped over himself at that, getting a glance from a nearby human, though they just as quickly ignored him. “My son”? Did… did that mean…?

“Are you…?” he began, but he could not finish the question. This had to be some kind of trick; it was too good to be true. 

_ Yes, young one. I'm your grandfather.  _

Luke felt lightheaded at the sound of the word echoing in his head. He knew that Grandpa Cliegg had not been his grandfather; that Grandma Shmi had married him after his father had already been born, but he had always assumed that his real grandfather had died. The thought that he could be alive had never even occurred to him, and he almost felt like his heart could go skipping off without him. 

More than that, though, was he was clearly a Jedi; how else could he be hearing him like this?

_ Come, child.  I must see you. _

“Where are you?” Luke murmured, excitement building in his chest.  Of course, he knew he should be cautious, it could still be a trap, but it  _ felt  _ right, like the Force itself was encouraging him to listen and find this person claiming to be related to him. 

_ In the palace.  _

Luke stopped cold again at that, his gaze drawn to his left, where he could see the tall spire of the former Jedi Temple, now Imperial Palace, looming up from the ground. An unsettled feeling hit the bottom of his stomach, and for a moment he felt lost all over again. If his grandfather was in there, then…

After a moment, his hand fell over where he was keeping his father's lightsaber hidden. No, he could do this; he came here wanting to find what was left of the Jedi, and he just stumbled over the best thing he could have ever imagined. He was not going to let himself be daunted just because it was going to be  _ a lot  _ harder than he originally thought. He  _ could  _ do this. 

“Where are you?” he asked, picking up the pace. “Do you know a good way in?”

_ I can guide you.  _

Somehow Luke managed to keep himself from bolting down the street, continuing to blend into the crowd even as it started to thin out the closer he got to the Palace. Just before he got to the area that was off limits to the public, he felt the warmth of his grandfather’s presence tugging him away, down a back alley. He followed the path and his presence down and around, spiraling closer until he was standing face to face with a sewer grate. The first thought that came to his head was the creature that had been living in the Death Star’s sewage system, and he screwed his face up in disgust, to the accompaniment of a soft chuckle in the back of his mind. It was a moment before he shook it off, reaching for the release lock on the grate and slipping inside. 

The stench hit Luke almost immediately, and he had to pause a moment to adjust, fighting against the urge to gag. It was less the smell of sewage and more like  _ death;  _ like hundreds of people died in this place, and it did not take him long to find out how accurate that assessment was. Once he started inside, it only took a few feet for it to be too dark to see, leaving him fumbling with his belt packs a moment to pull out a glowrod. He saw it all once it was lit: the bones of those that had passed on twenty years ago, some with flesh and tattered rags of former robes still clinging to them. Occasionally, he could see the glint of white, of clone trooper armor long forgotten about and left to rot with the Jedi they tried to kill. 

A faint noise escaped from him as he sunk back against the wall, horrified at the sight of it all. 

_ When the Jedi were declared traitors, they were hunted down. Slaughtered. Those that survived Darth Vader’s attack on the Temple fled this way. The clones were waiting for them.  _

“They… they didn't really turn against the Emperor, did they?” Luke asked, still speaking softly, like he was afraid the dead would rise if he was any louder. 

_ That depends on your point of view, I suppose. It certainly seemed as if they had when they broke into his office and attacked him.  _

Broke into his office? That description rang hollow in Luke's mind, if only because it did not sound like something a Jedi would do. But then again… he did not know; he was basing his idea of what a Jedi was around stories he had heard others say and what Ben was like to him. In the middle of the Clone Wars… well, war could change people. It certainly changed him already. 

“Is that how my father died?” he asked, pulling himself together enough to move forward again. “Was he killed here, by Vader?”

There was a very noticeable pause, and he could almost feel his grandfather’s presence retreat. He bit his lip, about to apologize for asking, when he returned again. 

_ No, child. Your father's death was a quiet thing, at the hands of the Jedi.  _

Luke had been midway to reaching for a door in his path, about to push his way through and out of the sewer, when he froze, his breath leaving him in a strangled gasp. That… that could not be right. His father  _ was  _ a Jedi; why would they kill him?

_ He stood in defense of the Chancellor when the Jedi broke into his office all those years ago. I’m sorry you were told differently, young one.  _

Luke wavered on the spot, before finally leaning forward and resting his head against the door. It sounded  _ wrong,  _ but at the same time he felt some kind of truth in there as well. But  _ why…? _

He took a breath of fetid air to steady himself, before he carefully pushed the door open. There was not anyone on the other side, and he could not sense anyone in the vicinity either, so he slipped into the small room, closing the door behind him and taking a breath of clean air. The door noticeably clicked, locking itself and startling Luke, leaving him staring down at it a moment. Why would it lock itself like that?

...and why could he not sense anyone in the immediate area?

The feeling that this could be a trap lurched up in his gut again, and he almost pulled his lightsaber from its hiding spot. Better to cut the door back open and run back into the sewer than walk headlong into a trap, right? He bit his lip, staring overly long at the door, before turning his gaze toward the gentle tug of his “grandfather's” presence, assuming this even was someone related to him. 

Hesitantly, he began to follow it once again, not at all surprised when he did not see anyone out in the hallway. For the very heart of the Empire, it was damn near deserted, and part of him tried to say that his grandfather was just using the Force, subtly turning troops away from their posts and leaving his path clear. He’d seen Ben do something similar, after all; planting suggestions into a trooper’s mind. 

But if his grandfather could do all that, why would he stay here?

Unless he lived here. 

The cold realization of what was going on hit him hard in the gut, even as he suddenly found himself staring at a turbolift. He looked back, realizing he had ascended several floors in a haze of disbelief at his own stupidity, before staring back at the lift. There was no going back now; he had a feeling as soon as he tried to turn away, he would just be grabbed and tossed into the darkest prison cell the Empire had, never to see the light of day again. 

Luke curled his hands into fists, realizing he would rather a quick death at his destination than a slow one. 

He stepped into the turbolift, turning around as the doors closed and it started to lift up. 

“Why did my father really die?” he asked softly. “Why would he ever come to your defense?”

The presence paused at that, and Luke knew he had to realize that he was calling out the lie that was being fed to him. That warmth turned into a biting cold the next moment, not  _ painful,  _ but the possessive grasp felt like it sucked the breath out of his lungs all the same. 

_ I never told him, but I think part of him knew I was responsible for his coming into being. He would always seek me out for advice. Advice his masters could not give, and I was happy to impart my wisdom.  _

Luke let out a shaky breath, part of him wanting to shut down. It felt like truth, but he could not say for sure. If it was still a lie, why bother? There would be no sense in continuing to lie when he knew who he was really speaking to. 

The turbolift doors open, and Luke found himself staring down a short distance to an ornate door, flanked by two royal guards. Instinct had him flinching, ducking back against the far wall of the lift, but they did not come after him. Instead, they stood to the side, inviting him to pass, and Luke felt his insides cave in on themselves. If he had been so laughably unprepared for Vader at Cymoon, he was  _ definitely  _ unprepared for what lay beyond those doors, and if there actually was any kind of truth to the words that churned like poison in his head. 

Only one way to find out. 

Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Luke started forward, somehow able to keep his head held high as he marched toward what had to be his demise, because he was not sure the alternative was  _ better.  _ The door slid open at his approach, and it felt like being slammed in the face with a wall of Darkness; if he thought outside the Palace was bad, then here at its very heart was infinitely worse. Still, he walked forward, not stopping even as the door closed behind him; not until he came to the foot of the dias in front of him, hesitantly looking up to the man above him. 

“Come, my child,” Emperor Palpatine urged, leaning forward on his throne to beckon to him. “I want to get a better look at my grandson.”

Luke swallowed hard, but somehow found it in him to step up, ascending the small staircase to get to the throne. The Emperor stood as he approached, leaning heavily on an ornate cane as he reached a hand out, his fingers brushing against Luke's cheek once he was close enough, and it was hard to miss the excited tremble in his touch. 

“Look at you…” he began, something like awe in his voice. “The image of your father, the soul of your mother. Do you even realize how much of a miracle you are?”

Luke found himself hesitating again, afraid to relax even though the Emperor’s attentions seemed genuinely fond. He could not tell; Leia warned him he was a master manipulator, that he knew how to twist a person until they snapped. He doubted he would have to try very hard with him, which just made Luke even more on edge. He seemed to sense his unease, because an almost kind smile came to the Emperor's face as he let his hand drop, resting it over the one holding his cane. 

“I'm sure you’ve heard horror stories of me, young one,” he said. “I can see the signs of Rebellion living on you.”

His gaze flicked down to his jacket, an almost amused light in his eyes, and Luke suddenly felt extremely self conscious, very aware the clothes he was wearing were not his, that he was lucky Han had some hand-me-downs that fit tucked away on the  _ Falcon.  _ The Emperor did not seem to be ready to let up on him though, a light of understanding coming to his face. 

“Ahh… I see now,” he murmured. “I see how they were able to dispatch the Death Star so easily…”

Luke did not have time for his insides to turn to ice before he was waving his hand dismissively. 

“No matter,” he continued. “I will not hold even that against my own flesh and blood.”

Luke had to take a step back, his head spinning to the point that he wanted to be sick. This was too much… too much at once, and he did not understand any of it. He finally reached up after a moment, rubbing a hand over his face in an effort to get it all to make sense, and he could feel the Emperor patiently waiting for him, with all the grace one would expect from a kindly grandfather. 

But was it real? 

“I… I don't understand any of this,” he finally replied lamely. “How could…  Why did… What  _ happened?” _

Understanding surfaced on the Emperor's face, and he reached for him again, gently placing a hand on his arm and guiding him to the side, to a door tucked away behind a curtain. A lavish study awaited them on the other side, and he ensured Luke was seated comfortably in one of the chairs before taking his own seat behind the ornate desk. 

“There is much I do not know of what occurred that night,” he began. “I can only tell you what I myself bore witness to.”

He paused, motioning to a servant that had been half hidden in the corner. The person approached, setting out cups for the both of them, before pouring some tea and retreating. Luke stared at his cup for a moment, wondering if it was worth the risk to try it and hope it would calm his nerves instead of kill him. Emperor Palpatine did not seem to mind his reluctance, taking a sip from his own cup before continuing. 

“When the Jedi came to my office that night, they came with the intent to kill,” he said, lifting his head enough so Luke could easily see past his hood, to the heavily marred and decrepit face beyond. “Your father came to my defense, though at the expense of his life.”

He paused, and Luke could feel a heaviness to the air as the Emperor pressed the tips of his fingers together, bowing his head. 

“Anakin Skywalker died, and Vader rose that night, his rage insatiable. Order Sixty-six was enacted then, and Vader led our forces for the first time to annihilate the remaining Jedi.”

He shook his head. “Beyond that, I cannot say. Your mother died, and Vader was gravely injured. I suspect the same Jedi was responsible for both, if the determination Vader showed while hunting for Obi-Wan Kenobi was any indication.”

Ben…?

Luke felt his world crumble a little. It was so different from what Ben had told him, but… at the same time, Ben had never mentioned his mother, never said much about Vader other than he was a pupil of his. There was only one thing that was consistent between the two stories: Vader knew his father. They had a positive relationship before his father's death. 

Vader was key here; he needed to be able to talk to him, but he was a monolith of anger and terror. There was no way he was going to be able to approach him, unless…

A terrible idea wormed its way into his head and refused to leave. This was dangerous, and it would pretty much burn his chances of going back to the Alliance, but… if he could find out the truth of his family, what really happened to his father, to his mother, it would be worth it, right? He finally reached for his drink, somehow able to keep his hands steady as he held the cup between them. This was not the kind of person he was, but he could learn, adapt; if there was any truth to the Emperor being related to him, he knew he had it in him. 

“I… never knew any of this. I don't even know my mother's name,” he began softly, hesitantly peering up at the Emperor. “If you're willing to forgive me, Excellency, I… I’d like to know my family. Please.”

A small, kind smile appeared on the Emperor’s face, though there was a cold edge there, one that did not even know what warmth felt like. Luke could see it easily, and he could bet he was relishing in having an untrained Force user like him in his clutches. 

“Please, young Luke, there is no need for titles between us.”

Somehow, Luke made a soft, grateful smile come to his face, finally taking a sip of that tea. He could do this. He was from Tatooine; if there was one thing people of Tatooine knew how to do well, it was survive. 

“Thank you, Grandfather.”

~.oOOo.~

Han let out a frustrated noise as he stormed onto the  _ Falcon,  _ once again finding it hard to resist the urge to take off and never look back. Luke had been missing for over a month now; the fact that a pilot was missing for that long was enough to put anyone on edge, but the fact that it was  _ this  _ pilot made everyone on the whole damn base nervous. They all knew Luke had a price on his head, the “alive only” bounty only eclipsed by the Princess’s extraordinary payout. He was just as worried as everyone else, but the fact that  _ certain individuals  _ were jumping on his case about not knowing where he was was not helping anything. 

As if to exacerbate the issue, a faint grumble came down from the cockpit, and Han very nearly screamed. 

“I don't  _ know  _ where he is!” he shouted. “Don't you get on my case too, Chewie!”

He flopped down behind the game table, propping his feet up on it with a groan as Chewie poked his head around the corner, murmuring out a soft growl. 

“Yeah, I’m worried about him,” he grumbled back at his best friend and copilot. “He just up and walked off, and considering how upset he was after Cymoon, I wouldn't blame the kid for calling it quits. Just because  _ he  _ quit, though, doesn't mean tall, dark, and asthmatic will.”

Chewbacca let out a faint rumble at that, shaking his head slightly as Han leaned over, pulling out a who knew how old Corellian beer from a hidden compartment, accidentally kicking on the holotable in the process. A picture flickered on above it, cycling to the last function and picking up the nearest news relay. Han grumbled as he sat up properly, reaching to turn it off, especially as he heard the familiar keys of the Imperial Anthem humming over the speakers, when he ended up freezing solid, staring at the picture before him as Chewie let out a snarl. 

“Oh… found the kid…”

The reporter was babbling nonsense as he said that; something about the kid being the lost grandson of the Emperor. That was nuts, and Han did not buy it for a second; the kid was no Imperial in any way, much less related to the worst of the lot. As it was, he could see it plane as day on the recording; he may have had that innocent farmboy smile on his face, but it did not quite reach his eyes. The kid was probably in the middle of one of his stupid plans, and was struggling to stay brave. 

Dumb kid; this was why he liked him. 

“Think Leia’s seen this yet?”

**_“HAN!!!”_ **

Chewie let out a faint rumble that basically translated to, “Yep,” as the pounding of tiny booted feet made their way up the boarding ramp. Han bit back a groan as he swiveled around in his seat, just in time to see the Princess in all her petite pissed off glory. Well, maybe “pissed off” was not a good description; she definitely looked scared and a little hurt, especially as her gaze flicked over to the holo. Wordlessly, she near fell down into the seat next to him, taking the beer from his hands for herself. Han turned to protest, though the reporter announcing that Luke was taking the podium clammed him up very fast, hs head immediately whipping back toward the holo. 

_ “I thank you all for attending this gathering; your warm welcome and cheers give me hope for the future,”  _ Luke began, clearing reciting something someone else wrote. He wrapped his hands around the edges of the podium before continuing.  _ “I know the question of my origin will be cause of some debate, and I will happily lay that to rest right now. I am the son of Padmé Amidala, former beloved queen and senator of Naboo. My father was Anakin Skywalker, heroic Jedi that died in the defense of our Emperor, who had unknowingly fathered him in the early days of his time serving the Republic.” _

Luke continued spouting nonsense about serving the Empire, crap Han did not believe for a second. Instead of listening, his gaze drifted down to Luke's hand, frowning as he watched a finger moving oddly. 

“What's he doing with his hand?” he asked after a moment. 

“Nervous twitch?” Leia suggested, the tone of her voice loaded with disapproval. Han turned, mouth open to object, only to end up pausing a moment as he glanced down to see the beer half gone already. Chewie let out a soft growl before he could try again, leaning closer to the holo to see what Luke was doing better. He finally let out an excited trill, woofing out an explanation. 

“Using the kind of signaling slaves use?” Han repeated, more for Leia's sake. “Makes sense; he grew up on Tatooine.”

Leia leaned forward, looking much more interested and less depressed about the situation now. She squinted at the holo, her gaze focused on Luke's hand now as well. 

“What's he trying to say?”

Chewie paused, rumbling out each completed word as it appeared, until the pattern repeated. 

“‘Meet tonight. Palace veranda. Eleven. Information needed’,” Han translated for her, before frowning. “That doesn't sound like a message for us.”

Leia shook her head. “If not us, then who?”

He could only shrug helplessly in response, his eyes turning to the holo again as Luke paused, turning to give the Emperor a smile. It was still fake, still not the kind of smile Luke would give any of them, but he was much better at pretending when aimed at His Wrinkliness. 

_ “I hope to continue my family legacy, and bring order and peace to the galaxy. Long live the Empire!” _

~.oOOo.~

Meet tonight. Palace veranda. Eleven. Information needed. 

The message recited over and over again in Darth Vader's head, to the point where he could see the boy’s finger moving with each word. He must have watched the news feed a hundred times when Aphra had picked it up, just barely hearing her comment about him being obsessed. It had taken a while before he could pull himself together enough to order her to bring him to Imperial Center immediately before retreating from any glib words she had for him. 

On the best of days he was a smoldering storm of anger, his thoughts often swirling around the unfairness of his life, especially his current situation. Blamed for the Death Star’s destruction, made to fight against “replacements” that were nothing more than abominations, and now forced to watch his own son being claimed by the Emperor in front of the whole galaxy. At the moment, his rage knew no end, and he wanted nothing more than to storm into the Palace and tear the Emperor's head off, and that was just the  _ start  _ of the ideas he was entertaining to satiate his rage.

How  _ dare  _ he take his son! How  _ dare  _ he lie to him! The boy had clearly been lied to enough in his life if he believed he had killed his father. His child had every right to know who his father really was, that he was alive and… not  _ well,  _ but functional at the very least!

The hope that Luke was calling out to him for that truth was the only reason he was quietly slipping into the palace, having left Aphra to hide her ship and wait for his return. If he was fortunate, he would be coming back with his son, never mind what the consequences may be. 

He could hear the sounds of revelry coming up from the ballroom below the veranda, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. The former Temple had been changed so much that it was hard to tell it was the same building, and many such gatherings had happened in the time since, trying to appeal to Palpatine’s ego to improve their own standing. Vader knew this party was for his son, however, and he could only imagine how the young man was handling it. Most likely trying to keep himself hidden as much as possible, assuming he had not already snuck out. For a moment, he almost dared to peer down below, to see if he could spot his son, when the shuffle of footsteps drew his attention away. 

Vader turned, and only the sound of his breathing filled to space between him as he watched his son come into the room, pausing once he finished ascending the stairs. He could feel hesitation in him, a bit of fear, the memories of Cymoon coming fresh to his mind, but his attention was more on the sight of the boy. He was just wearing simple black slacks and shirt, looking more like an Imperial agent than a claimed prince, but he carried himself as royalty already. It felt right, despite the circumstances, and Vader could not help but feel a touch of pride at his son. 

“You got my message,” the boy finally said, starting forward again. He stopped a comfortable distance away from him, enough so he did not have to tilt his head up too far to meet his gaze beyond the lenses of his mask. 

“A most unexpected way to summon me, Your Highness,” he replied, folding his arms over his chest. He did not know what lies the Emperor had been feeding him, and it left him unwilling to make assumptions. His reply treated him to the sight of his son relaxing slightly, enough to roll his eyes and scrunch his nose in disgust. 

“Please, none of that. I’ve had enough slimy people calling me that today, I need a break.”

Vader would have let out a snort if his ventilator permitted it. Yes, his son seemed much like his mother in many ways, but there were certainly traces of him in more than just his appearance. 

“I need to know something important; I put myself through this because I have a feeling you're the only one who has the answer,” Luke continued, an earnest expression on his face. “I need to know what really happened to my father.”

Vader paused at that; so Palpatine had not told him. He was not surprised, but it left him curious as to what lies he would tell him to lead him to take such a desperate action to contact him. 

“You would destroy your chance to return to the Rebellion for such a question?” he asked, mildly curious. He was not sure what the boy hoped to accomplish by doing this, unless he had not thought that far ahead. Which… well, he was his son.

“I think it's worth it, and if I can't go back to the Alliance, then I’ll find a way to make things right  _ here,  _ even if I have the Emperor breathing down my neck,” Luke replied stubbornly, but there was a tremble in his voice, and it was clear the boy was very well aware of the danger he was in. He was not acting in  _ complete  _ recklessness at the very least. 

“I’ve been told two different stories about my father, and the only thing consistent between the two is that you knew him,” Luke continued. “Please… what  _ happened  _ that night?”

Vader paused, knowing he had to tell him the truth, but failing in how to do it. He could be blunt about it, but he did not feel that would help Luke at the moment. He had no idea what the child had been through so far, but considering how cognizant he was of the danger he was in, he could guess. He finally relaxed his arms after a moment, hooking his thumbs into his belt. 

“That night was the night the Chancellor trusted Skywalker enough to reveal he was the Sith Lord the Jedi had been searching for the entire war,” he began. “But Skywalker was afraid, and went to the Jedi Council, who took immediate action. By the time he returned to the Chancellor’s quarters, most of the Jedi were dead, and the remaining Master had already maimed him. Skywalker attacked the remaining Jedi, allowing the Chancellor to finish him off.”

Vader paused at that, taking in the distant look on his son’s face, like he could see what had happened in his mind’s eye. He was strong in the Force, had an almost instinctual connection to it, but was woefully untrained. Palpatine would tear him apart; break him down piece by piece, and then rebuild him into something that was not his son anymore. The thought caused an uncomfortable feeling rise in his chest, one he could not describe. 

“Anakin Skywalker died in that moment,” Vader continued, “but your father still lives.”

Luke's head shot up at that, mouth poised to ask what he meant by that. He quickly stopped, however, realization dawning on his face. Vader kept a careful eye on him, monitoring his reaction as it went from surprise to acceptance… but no horror to be found. He supposed first being told the Emperor was his grandfather made the revelation of who  _ he  _ was to him seem better by comparison. 

Luke turned away after a moment, biting his lip. 

“Then… is he…?”

Ah, that question came up sooner than he expected. Vader folded his arms over his chest again, mentally cursing Palpatine once more. 

“If he is to be believed, then the Emperor's status as your grandfather depends on how you define such a thing,” he began. “If you are satisfied with him being the cause of my coming into being, then yes. He is. However, he supposedly did so using the Force, manipulating my mother's body to cause her pregnancy. It is doubtful he ever even knew her name.”

Disgust came to Luke's face at that, his gaze flicking down toward the ballroom below, as if hoping Palpatine could feel the power of his glare. Vader could not help but feel amused by his reaction, having a feeling he knew exactly what his son would do to the Emperor if given the chance. 

“What will you do now, my son?” he asked. “It is dangerous for you to stay here; the Emperor will make use of your power, twist it to his own means.”

Luke looked back up to him, his face suddenly going pale, and for a moment, Vader worried that his warning was coming too late. 

“I know,” Luke replied softly, a fearful tremble in his voice. “Since coming to this planet, it's been easy to pick up on things I couldn't before. I can feel it every time he's near, how much he wants to… to do  _ something  _ to me, something that isn't going to leave me in one piece. It's worse when he touches me; it's like I can feel his fingers digging into my mind.”

He needed to get Luke out of here. 

The sudden lurch of protectiveness caught them both off guard, to the point they had to take a step back from each other. Luke recovered first, a sheepish smile creeping onto his face, and suddenly Vader could feel him so strongly, like his fierce protection had bridged a gap between them, forming a bond far stronger than one between Master and Apprentice. He could feel Luke's light so strongly, almost like it was powerful enough to breach through his own soul, remind him of how warm that light could be. 

“I need to leave,” Luke said softly. 

Vader nodded, reaching out for him. His son went to him willingly, not flinching when he wrapped his arm around him as they started off, his cloak half shielding him from view. He could feel a giddy sort of excitement coming from the boy, despite how uncertain the future was from here on out, but he could understand why. 

Luke had his father, and Vader had his son. As long as that remained true, they would be able to figure out the rest. 


	5. Just Each Other

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aphra and Luke have been friends and partners for years. Stuck in a bind, they end up picking up a surprise passenger...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one isn't finished the way I would like it to be, but I'm stuck at the moment and I have a new idea coming on. I might come back to this in a later update.

“Did you isolate the reverse power coupling?”

“Yep.”

“And?”

“Nothing.”

Aphra let out an irritable sigh, staring down at the pair of legs sticking out from the service hatch on the  _ Ark Angel.  _ She had met the owner of those scrawny chicken legs five years or so ago, when she was first starting out on her career as a (rogue) archaeologist. Her travels happened to take her out to Tatooine, a Hutt controlled dust ball. As such, it was not too much of a surprise to see a burnt out farmstead and someone mourning the loss of the people that owned it, just typically that person was not a scrawny teenager that had just finished burying his relatives, so numb from the emotional turmoil that he could not even cry. Normally, Aphra would have ignored it and moved on — not anyone she knew, not her problem — but something about the kid stopped her from walking away. She had finally approached him, offering him her hand and not all that surprised he took it. 

Those first two years were rough; the kid did not speak for the longest time, but he could convey what he wanted well enough. He was pretty scrappy, weirdly able to find things she was looking for, even artifacts that had not seen the light of day in thousands of years. Being around him seemed to make things… better, too. Even her disastrous falling out with her ex was tempered by his presence, and it helped her stay focused on what she wanted. His silence tended to annoy others though, and more than once she had to break up a fight because some loser tried to get him to talk. Also there was one really odd, possibly really  _ bad  _ problem, where sometimes things would just  _ float  _ around behind him for no reason other than they just felt like it. 

The first thing he said to her after that first two years was “thank you”, though. That kind of made putting up with his weirdness worth it. 

Finding out his name was Luke Skywalker kind of explained more than a few things, and since he was slowly recovering from his trauma, she made sure he knew not to share his last name with anyone. The fact that “Skywalker” had been the name of a famous Jedi Knight had been news to him, and she could see the burning curiosity in his face, but he accepted the fact he had to keep his possible relation a secret, and left it at that. 

Thank the stars for that too, because she was in no mood to lose him after the time she spent with him, and even less so now, some five or six years after she first met him. He was damn useful, and could actually get her ship up and running when it was being temperamental.  _ Usually,  _ anyway; the  _ Ark Angel  _ was having far too many issues at the moment, and Luke finally slid out from the service hatch, grease smeared all over his face. 

“I think I know what’s going on,” he murmured, scooting down the way to another hatch. He practically tossed himself down that one, until just his feet were sticking out, and she heard him let out an  _ ah-ha  _ before the banging noises started. He finally crawled out once he was done, holding up a component that looked like it had been taking a lava bath. 

“The secondary power coupling slagged, shorting out the redundancy back up, which caused the whole system to fail,” he explained, tossing the component at her. “We’re lucky we didn't blow up when you thought flying through that nebula was a good idea.”

“It got them off our tail, didn't it?” she grumbled indignantly, before letting out a sigh. “Please tell me it can be fixed, and we don't need a new hyperdrive…”

Luke paused, scrunching up his face. “It would be  _ better  _ if we got a new one, yes,” he replied, but even as he said it, Aphra knew he was thinking of alternatives. Money was tight at the moment, considering their last job went up in smoke, literally. They had been scrabbling together old Separatist droids for pirates to turn some quick cash since then, but it was not enough, not for a new hyperdrive. 

“What's the closest system to our—”

Luke cut himself off as the com trilled over the back speakers; they were being hailed. Aphra paused, sparing him a concerned glance, before the two of them were running for the cockpit. They arrived to see a star fighter floating by, clearly in worse shape than a star fighter had any right to be, and definitely of Imperial make. The two of them paused again, exchanging looks; well, it was probably no one they wanted to deal with, but nothing said they could not help themselves to whatever they could pull off the fighter, right? They shared a nod, before Aphra went to answer the hail. 

“Hey there, fighter, this is the  _ Ark Angel.  _ You look like you could use some help out there.”

They both held themselves still, waiting for a response that never came. Aphra let out an affronted noise, her glibness clearly wasted. 

“He's still hailing us, so maybe his receiving coms are down,” Luke said, checking the communications array. “Let's pull him in; he’s dead in space anyway. It's not like he can object.”

“Or we could just shoot it and pick off the scrap,” Aphra replied, before frowning at him. “Why you want to pull the guy in anyway?”

It wasn't like him; Luke typically stuck to her, and while he was kind when the situation called for it, he rarely stuck his neck out for others. He seemed confused by his own actions, and for a moment, he just bit his lip, contemplating a response. 

“I just… have a feeling,” he finally settled with, shrugging helplessly, knowing it wasn't much of an answer. He nodded out the cockpit after a moment, indicating the back of the fighter. “Besides, look at the extra baggage back there. I’ll bet anything that fighter’s hyperdrive equipped. If the rest of the fighter is toast, I bet we can get that off of there and into here.”

That… was a solid plan, Aphra couldn't deny him that, despite his shaky reasoning. Still, she had a bad feeling…

“All right, all right; just keep your blaster close,” she said, reaching for the tow line controls. Within minutes, they had the damaged fighter snagged, and were pulling it safely into the cargo hold. Luke left the cockpit as she was finishing up, a weird look on his face that he would get sometimes, like he was listening to something only he could hear. She really hated it when he did that, or just ran off like he was doing now, but she couldn't run after him until she was finished with the docking sequence. 

By the time she was able to follow Luke back to the cargo hold, she found him standing just under the fighter they pulled in, staring up at the top of it like he was having an intense conversation with the person that stood there. Of course, the sight of that individual brought Aphra to a screeching halt, and she stared up at the dark figure, the thing of nightmares, in mute awe, wondering if now was a good time to start cursing their terrible luck. She ran up to Luke after a moment, grabbing him by the shoulders and pulling him back. He stirred at her touch, like he was waking up from a dream, and he looked back at her in surprise, though she was more concerned with their new passenger. 

“Lord Vader, sir!” she squeaked out, squeezing Luke's shoulders. “This is an unexpected surprise!”

Darth Vader's mask shifted, and she got the distinct impression he was staring  _ directly  _ at her — really unsettling, enough to make a shudder run down her spine. Creepy…

He jumped down from the top of the fighter after a moment, and it was crazy just how tall he was. Luke just barely came up to his shoulders, and well, she didn't even come close to that. She swallowed nervously as that unseen gaze beyond the mask stayed focused on them, though Aphra got the feeling now it was mostly focused on Luke, and she couldn't help but tug him back against her protectively. She didn't care that the kid’s existence was illegal under the Empire; she wasn't letting him get speared by the right hand of the Emperor on her own ship. 

“Is your hyperdrive still serviceable, sir?” Luke suddenly spoke up, and Aphra could feel the tension in the air evaporate instantly. “Ours was recently slagged. If we can swap it out, we’ll be able to get you back to your ship.”

The Dark Lord paused, and Aphra could feel Luke flinch as she dug her fingers tighter into his shoulders. Vader finally nodded after an overly long moment, turning back to his dead fighter. 

“If you can make it work with this ship, you are welcome to it,” he finally said, his deep voice rumbling through the whole cargo hold. Luke nodded at that, shaking Aphra off to go inspect where to start on the fighter. She fumbled after him, her hands grasping at air, before she gave up, standing a bit straighter as she realized Vader was still staring at her. 

“Ah… h-heh…” she began, rubbing at the back of her neck. “W-welcome aboard the  _ Ark Angel,  _ your lordship! Feel free to make yourself at home!”

Vader stared down at her for a long moment, and Aphra felt her insides turning into jelly under that terrifying gaze. He finally turned away wordlessly, and she managed to keep herself upright until the door closed behind him. She very nearly melted into the floor, shaking as she allowed her fright to take over, before it was quickly replaced by irritation. 

“The next time you get a feeling, Luke, tell it to kark off!” she snapped, before flopping face first onto the deck. Luke peered out from the fighter at that, raising an eyebrow, before he chucked a bolt at her, deliberately so it would bounce off her butt. 

“Don't complain, we’re getting a free state-of-the-art hyperdrive,” he replied as she squeaked, before ducking back into the fighter to continue his work. 


	6. Just Each Other Pt. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aphra and Luke drop off their unexpected passenger, and continue on their way, only to get into even more trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the new idea I mentioned in the previous chapter? Turned out to be "From a Certain Point of View", which spun a life of its own. I've finished this one, but I'll be releasing it in short bursts.

As always was the case, Luke was in the zone as soon as Aphra left him be to focus on unmounting the hyperdrive from the damaged fighter, hyper focused on his task and nothing else. Working on machinery had always been his go to when he was stressed out or upset; it always calmed him, made it feel like the galaxy and its problems were light years away from him and his task. It was almost like a moving meditation, he supposed, as he always felt his mind just empty itself out, and at the end of it, things were just that much better. It had helped him a lot  _ before,  _ when he was first traveling with Aphra, in those two years where even the thought of speaking after everything that happened was too difficult to handle. 

It was an hour before he managed to disengage all the connections on the fighter's hyperdrive; it was clearly never meant to be removed from the ship, and it was a pure miracle he managed to wiggle it out of the entry hatch.  Allowed himself a moment of triumph, he ran his hands over it, glancing around. It would be difficult for him to get it down under his own power, and he bit his lip, glancing around, before he looked back at the drive. Luke let out a breath, closing his eyes and focusing on the shape and feel of it, imagining it moving from his hands to the ground below.  It did not always work, but sometimes he could get things to move by thinking about it hard enough… or sometimes, completely by accident. It always made Aphra scared when he did it in front of her, and he knew it was because she didn’t want to be separated from him, something that would definitely happen if more important beings discovered his power.

Beings like the one they were currently transporting.

Luke realized it was a bad idea to try it too late.  He could feel the drive lifting away from his hands, and he had to focus hard to make sure it got to the floor in one piece.  He did not stop until he heard a faint thump, and he let himself slump forward, exhausted from the effort.

That was when he became aware of the breathing.

“Who trained you, child?” Lord Vader’s voice boomed below him, though it did not sound accusatory, merely curious.  Luke turned, looking down at him, a strange feeling he could not describe settling in his chest. It reminded him of when he would look at his family, and it brought an ache he did not want to think about.

“No one,” Luke answered softly, telling him the truth.  “It just… started happening one day.”

“Then you are very powerful in the Force indeed,” the dark lord replied, and Luke tilted his head.  The Force…? That was the name of his weird power? Why did it sound familiar? “Far more powerful than to be wasted on the whims of a common scoundrel.”

Luke shook his head at that.  “Aphra’s not common,” he replied softly.  Vader paused at that, as if his words alone were enough to convince him it was true.  In the silence that followed, Luke took the time to jump down from his perch, landing on the ground below with a grunt.  He went to grab up the hyperdrive, crouching low and preparing himself for the weight of it, when it started to hover up in the air on its own.  Luke stumbled back, pretty sure he was not the one doing that, before he glanced at Vader behind him, and the arm that was outstretched toward the drive block.

A grin grew on his face as he straightened, following after the Dark Lord and the floating hyperdrive.

~.oOOo.~

Aphra watched, arms folded over her chest, as the remains of the starfighter were removed from her ship by a bunch of stormtroopers that were stationed on this Star Destroyer they were on.  She understood; “engineering secrets” and “accountability” were important when it came to the ship flown by the right hand man of the Emperor, but she had been kind of hoping she would be able to take off with the whole craft.  The  _ money  _ she could have made off a whole starfighter…

“Don’t pout,” Luke said beside her, his gaze never leaving a datapad he was reading — something Vader had given him, apparently.  “Remember, he’s letting us keep the hyperdrive.”

And it was an infinitely better hyperdrive than they would have ever been able to get, even on the black market.  That, and the time Luke spent actually bonding with Vader as they installed it had made him very happy. She  _ supposed  _ that would have to be good enough.

“I guess,” she muttered, refusing to outright admit he was right, even though she knew he knew he was.  Aphra perked up almost immediately. “Besides, being here on this Destroyer… I think I have an idea…”

Luke finally lowered his datapad at that, casting her a worried look.

“Is that a, ‘we might be killed,’ idea or a, ‘this is going to be inconvenient for others,’ kind of idea?” he asked.

“It’s a, ‘We’re going to make the droid gotra really happy for sure this time,’ kind of idea.”

Luke let out a pained groan at that, exasperation written all over his face.

“Not again, Aphra!” he exclaimed.  “Remember the last time you did something for them?  And  _ failed?   _ I was doing repairs and lubrication for a  _ month.   _ I’ve had more droids than people  _ hit on me  _ because of you!”

“Oh, quit whining like you didn’t enjoy it,” Aphra replied, waving a hand dismissively.  “It’ll be fine.  _ Trust me.” _

Luke sagged, fighting against a groan as he gave her a  _ look,  _ like he was certain he was going to regret this.

~.oOOo.~

“‘Trust me.’ Right…”

Luke flinched as the security droid behind him held his arms tighter, as if to ensure he was not going to try and wriggle out of its grasp.  All he could really do was watch sullenly as their hard fought for prize was taken from them by the caretaker of the quarantine world, his featureless white mask staring at the two of them almost contemptuously.  Utani Xane was a  Kallidahin they had run into uncounted several times in their line of “work,” one they had left looking incompetent multiple times before this.  He was pretty sure he looked triumphant under that mask, just as he was pretty sure Aphra had a  _ really  _ dumb plan for getting them out of this.

At least, he hoped she did.

As she verbally spared with their captor, complaining when he took the Triple Zero chip from her, Luke felt something… odd, and it took him a moment to realize it was the same feeling he got when he had been in Vader’s presence.  Something like hope rose in his chest as one of the droids announced a starfighter was landing, and he caught sight of the Dark Lord’s TIE Advanced x1, clearly newly repaired with a new hyperdrive, with the lord himself emerging not long after.  Luke looked up to him as he approached, a calm settling over him that he could not describe, as if he knew what was going to happen next.

“I require the woman and the boy,” Vader announced, his voice leaving no room for argument.  “Release them to my custody immediately.”

Xane tried to argue with him anyway, pointing out this was a quarantine world and the Empire had no authority to order them around, but Vader was not paying attention.  Luke could feel his eyes on him, and he felt himself tense, every muscle in his body ready to spring into action.

Everything happened so  _ fast;  _ Vader took a lightsaber from his belt, a bluish hue engulfing the area as he ignited it.  The white masked alien cowered as if expecting to be struck, but the Dark Lord threw it at the droid holding Luke.  Even before the hilt left his hand, Luke knew to duck, letting the vibrant blade slice neatly through the droid. His hands freed from the failing droid, he whirled around and snapped up the hilt of the blade before the automaton hit the floor.  The blade whipped around almost like he had practiced with it for years, beheading the droid that was holding Aphra. She yelped, dropping to the ground, but Luke was already  _ moving,  _ the lightsaber humming along with something deep inside of him as he dealt with the next droid.  He was dimly aware of Vader activating his own lightsaber, the red blade cutting an angry path through the droids that Luke had not dealt with himself, a growing ache clawing at him with each swing.  If only he had this with him back… back then…

If only he could have defended his family against…

If only…

Something was  _ burning  _ within him, something foriegn and familiar at once, but before it could  _ burst  _ to the surface, they ran out of droids to destroy, and everything just  _ stopped.   _ Luke stared at nothing, not sure what to do, when he realized Aphra was not with them.  He looked around for her frantically, before he heard her shouting some distance away, and did not think twice as he ran for her, lightsaber still lit.

He found her down a corridor that opened to empty space, one hand clinging to the edge of the platform, legs dangling freely.  The other held onto her prized Triple Zero data chip package tight as Xane tried to pry it from her grasp. In that moment, he could see what would happen if he succeeded; he would stomp on her other hand before she could collect herself, sending her falling…

Somehow, Luke was suddenly  _ there  _ behind the alien, the lightsaber he was holding spearing through his back.  He tossed him off the blade with barely a second thought, watching him fall dead to the ground.  Mild horror at what he had done started to rise in his gut, but the sound of Aphra struggling to get back up forced it back down.  He dropped the weapon, kneeling down to help, before clinging to her in a tight,  _ terrified  _ hug.

“Wha—” Aphra began, but he knew she knew why he had been so scared.  She let out a breath after a moment, planting a hand on his head and stroking it fondly.  “Hey… I’m okay. Don’t worry.”

“You’re stupid and reckless,” he muttered against her chest, only to get a bark of laughter in return.

“But that’s why you’re here, to make up for that,” she replied, petting his hair again.  Luke just let out a faint noise, giving her another desperate squeeze, before pulling away.

He gathered himself together enough to grab the lightsaber and stand back up, just as Vader approached.  His gaze seemed to flick to the dead alien for a moment before it turned to Luke, silently appraising him.  It did not last long as Aphra took a bold step forward.

“Well, your lordship,” she began.  “I guess we’re even now. Thanks for the assist.”

The Dark Lord nodded once.  “Our business is not done, Aphra.  I require your services.”

_ “Doctor  _ Aphra,” she reminded him, before she paused, his words sinking in.  “Wait, are you hiring us?”

Vader merely nodded, and Aphra glanced back at Luke.  A small smile worked its way onto his face, not about to object to the Dark Lord’s continued presence.  She shrugged after a moment, turning back to Vader.

“Okay.  Let’s rendezvous in orbit.”


End file.
